


The Road

by jamjoon



Category: Pentagon (Korean Band), Triple H (Band)
Genre: 365 Fresh AU, Alcohol, Drugs, Fluff and Smut, Hui-centric, Multi, Polyamory, Sexual Content, brief suicide attempt mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 11:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10853262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamjoon/pseuds/jamjoon
Summary: They survived the jump.Now all they have is the desert, and each other.And, you know, a trunk full of cash.





	The Road

**Author's Note:**

> i don't really know how to summarize this. It's really just an extension of the MV bc i love them sO much hgghfdg

He rolls down the window when she asks.

The scarf around her neck flicks, whishing and skimming until dainty hands reach up and pull it back down.

Hyuna has beautiful hands. Hui remembers holding them, back when they thought they’d die.

Hui’s eyes flick back to the road, shaking off memories of cold water and narrow light. They should’ve died back on that bridge. Well, as far as the world knows, they did.

The money was stashed under the rubble of a collapsed gas station.  So when they crawled out dripping, dead to the world, they took the cash back and landed in the states fifteen hours later. 

Hyuna and Hyojong survived the impact. Apparently Hui required three solid minutes of CPR. They refuse to tell him who did it, but Hui doesn’t really care. Rather, he’s not sure  _why_ they resuscitated him. It’s not like  _they_ need him. Hyuna and Hyojong.

Hyuna turns back every thirty minutes or so. Probably to make sure Hyojong isn’t choking himself with the seatbelt. He’s fine, of course, staring out the window, head propped in his hand. Hui can see him crystal clear in the rear view window. His blonde hair is dusty from the dirt, and his skin shines from going three days without a proper shower.

Hyojong could probably care less whether they lived or died that night – and that,  _that_ pisses Hui off the most.

Because Hyojong has Hyuna. In a sense, they both do, but Hui knows the soft spot Hyuna harbors for him. Her soft spots are far and few in-between these days. 

Hui snaps his eyes back to the desert road. He doesn’t know where they’re going, what they’re doing – but none of that matters. Not much matters anymore. It’s the nineties. 

 

* * *

 

Hui pretends not to see the longing look Hyuna gives every telephone booth they pass. They have enough money to call home a thousand times over, but they never can. Whatever lives they lived are long gone.

 

* * *

 

“Hyojong,” Hyuna stretches. “Bang the T.V.”

Joint in hand, he brings his fist down against the box on the back of the television. The screen static comes back on, and Hyuna hums a thank you, head lolling back down against Hui’s shoulder. It’s motel quality television, but it’s the only roof for miles. The single bed is what they’re used to, anyways.

Hyojong slumps back in the loveseat, leg over the arm, and it makes a lovely creak. He breathes smoke between his lips, and Hui has a hard time looking away.

Hyuna shifts. Hui instantly misses the heat against his side. She stretches once more, yawning loudly, and carding a hand through ratty red hair.

“Attractive,” Hyojong shoots.

“Eat shit,” she shoots back. “Come here.”

“As if. You come here.”

She does, and Hui stretches out his legs to fill the empty space. She crawls into Hyojong’s lap like she belongs there, and Hui doesn’t even have the heart to be jealous. She’s just too beautiful, no makeup, Led Zepplin shirt falling down her shoulders. Hyojong brushes her hair behind her ear, and shifts the joint to his other hand, to avoid burning her.

A cartoon fuzzily plays on screen, but Hui doesn’t know enough English to decipher what they’re saying. He could ask Hyojong, but he won’t.

Instead, he watches Hyojong’s hands slip behind the back of Hyuna’s shirt, crawling upwards until the back of her black bra unclasps. She giggles – very short– but it makes Hui’s heart squeeze. Hyojong smiles back and pulls at her lower lip with his teeth, before kissing her proper.

Who knows how long they’ve been traveling. Who knows how many days it’s been. Hui can’t read the newspapers. Can’t get to a computer.

But Hui remembers how many times they’ve had sex. How many times he’s gotten to brace against Hyuna’s back and hold her, as Hyojong kisses down her chest. He remembers  _every_ time she’s bounced in his lap. Every time she’s sat on his face, and mouthed at Hyojong’s fingers. There’s a lot of things he wants to forget, but not that. None of that.

In the end – every time – it’s always Hyojong she faces as she falls asleep. Hui doesn’t question it. He’s too scared to break this frail glass house they’ve built, because they’re all he has left. Mom buried him a month ago. Has it been a month?

Nevertheless, he thinks he’d do anything for her. Hyuna is the glue. The kingpin. The one who keeps them in line, and crosses it herself. He’s watched her splash naked in desert lakebeds, and toe off her shoes to walk through the mud after it rains.

And as much as Hui hates to say it…Hyojong has grown on him too. He’s annoying, way too gutless with not enough humanity in his eyes – but Hui has seen one or two of his walls crumble down, and there  _is_ someone worth protecting in there. Deep, deep down.

Hui trusts Hyuna’s judgement. He’s not sure why.

Hui is pulled to the present by the shirt that gets tossed into his lap. He looks up, and Hyuna is watching him, lips tight as Hyojong sucks between her breasts, and curls his hands down the slim lines of her waist. 

She doesn’t say anything. Nothing encouraging, like  _come here_ , or,  _I need you,_ but she stares one beat too long, before turning back around to scrape her nails down Hyojong’s arms – and that’s an invitation if Hui ever saw one.

Hyojong scoots back in the loveseat, enough so that Hui can press a knee between both their legs, and curl his hand down the front of Hyuna’s jeans.

She sighs, head lolling back, and Hyojong leans away to smoke.

Hyojong exhales right in Hyuna’s face, and she sputters to fight, but Hui curls his middle finger right down her underwear, and she presses her lips together once more.

She’s not loud – sensitive, maybe, but Hyuna always keeps her tongue tied. Instead, it’s body language. Soft shivers and heavy exhales. Hui loves it. Sometimes she has a dirty mouth on her, and Hui loves that too.

Hyojong goes back to kissing her, the smoking joint between his fingers slipping when she steals it away. Their kisses are pretty; they’re gentle and fast and very  _them._

Hui can feel her getting wet, so he rubs her gently, until he can slide in a finger with no effort. She rocks back against him – breaks the kiss in favor of turning back to kiss Hui – and he can taste Hyojong on her tongue. He’s not sure why that turns him on so much, but it does.

It shouldn’t, probably. Hyojong and Hui have this unspoken rule that sex is sex, and once it’s done, it’s done. That makes no sense, but it  _does._

Once or twice, Hyuna has rolled over and told them to fuck off, dead tired, sticky and sweaty. They’ve jerked each other off – Hyojong blew him  _once,_ but only because Hyuna told him to. Nothing else. No kisses. Just sex.

Hui can feel Hyojong working Hyuna’s jeans down her hips, and it eases the strain on his wrist. He focuses on kissing her. On the flick of her tongue and the soft, cherry slide of her lips. There’s no worries. No outside world.

He can feel Hyojong’s fingers gently work around his own, so together they curl into her, and Hyuna softy rocks in their arms.

“God,” she breathes.

“Wanna’ bounce for me, sweetheart?”

She pinches his nipple and tugs, and Hyojong sputters out a laugh.

“You ‘aven’t done anything to deserve it.”

Hui sucks a kiss into the back of her neck, and pulls out his fingers, wiping them on her bare thigh.

“You’d look real fuckin’ pretty though.”

“Don’t I always?”

“Not when you’re snoring,” Hyojong grins, and Hyuna punches him in the arm. He laughs, but they’re kissing again, Hyuna’s nails raking through greasy hair.

Hui shoos away the weird feeling in his chest. Instead he focuses on the bruise he’s slowly painting – and grinds against her slowly, just to ease the tension between his thighs.

Hyojong eyes him over Hyuna’s shoulder. It’s intimidating, and Hui isn’t in the mood to fight, so he looks away.

 

* * *

 

For a long time, Hui thought he was jealous of Hyojong. Because Hyuna always smiled the most for him. Laughed the most, for him. She kissed Hyojong the most, small pecks and kisses that are so, so different than the sloppy ones she gives Hui during sex.

But Hui realizes that he was never jealous of Hyojong. Rather, he’s envious of what they have. Envious that Hyuna can turn all the harsh, rigid lines of Hyojong into something soft and puddly.

Yeah, they curl up on Hui’s sides sometimes. Yeah, they blow him in the back of rest stops, and in the back seat of their beat up BMW, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up to the sound of rushing water. The crummy bathroom sink is on, running and running and running and running.

The body previously on his right is gone. Hyojong is fast asleep behind him.

Old bedsprings creak as Hui stands. The room still smells like booze and weed, and the world sways as Hui walks.

He finds Hyuna hunched over the sink. Hyojong’s shirt sleeves are rolled up to her elbows, clean, red hair pushed back behind her ears. She scrubs her hands with soap, over and over, and what was previously a baseball sized bar of soap is now the size of a quarter.

She scrubs, and scrubs, panicked, jittery motions. Her fingers are wrinkly from the water, pink and rubbed raw. She doesn’t see him in the mirror.

Hui slips behind her, and whispers her name as he wraps his arms around her waist. Hyuna isn’t fazed.

“Baby,” he mumbles softly in her ear. “Reddy, you’re clean.”

She swallows loudly, as if fighting back tears. She doesn’t cry.

Hui slowly, softly slides his hands down her arms, and grips her hands. She pauses.

He turns off the tap. All you can hear is the sound of her wet hands dripping into the sink. She drops the soap bar.

“See?” Hui turns her hands over, the size of his engulfing hers. “All clean.”

Hyuna turns in his arms, wordlessly pressing her face into the divot of his shoulder. He offers to carry her, but she refuses.

They walk until they’re on the roof of the motel. There’s a gas station across the street, and a single grocery store.

Hyuna leans into his arm, and Hui holds her close. Her breathing is back to normal, but her hands are still red and sensitive.

“Do you still have nightmares?” Hui asks.

“Don’t we all?”

“I don’t dream anymore.”

She laughs dryly, “Okay, sure.”

“I’m serious!”

“I know,” Hyuna rests her head on his shoulder. “I don’t really dream either.”

Hui frowns, “Then what was that back there?”

She tenses, but rests her hand on Hui’s thigh.

“Sometimes I just…feel it. My hands feel sticky and-“ she shivers, grimacing, hands running up her chest, where blood had splattered. “It grosses me out.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Not really,” Hui answers. He rubs her arm, where goosebumps have formed. “But I believe you.”

She turns to look at him – and her bare face is stunning, still a little puffy from sleep. Her lips are chewed, red and beautiful, from where Hyojong and Hui kissed her for hours.

Hyuna doesn’t say thank you, but he hears it nevertheless. She reaches up to tip Hui’s head down, until she can kiss the scar across his nose.

“Did you plan on stealing the car that day?”

Hui blinks, because Hyuna never asked about what happened the day they met. He was sure she didn’t care, rather, she was preoccupied with other, more murdery things.

“No,” Hui answers. “I stole from someone I shouldn’t have, and got my shit pushed in, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she parrots. Hyuna stares, expectantly.

So Hui continues, “Um. I took the car because I wanted to go- I…I wanted to go somewhere far way.” He stares out across the desert. There’s a single light that flickers on the gas station sign. On and off. He snorts, “I got my wish.”

Hyuna draws absent circles around his knee, and the breeze whips her hair, and Hui thinks he’ll remember this forever, even when he’s sober again.

“Where do you think we’re going?”

“I don’t know, baby.”

“I want to see the Grand Canyon.”

“Okay.”

“And Niagara falls.”

“Okay.”

“And I want to go to Vegas.”

Hui nods, “Okay.”

Hyuna smiles, “None of those things are anywhere near each other, you know.”

Hui shrugs, “I just filled up the tank.”

This time Hyuna laughs, weightless and free from burden. She snuggles back up into his side and says, “You’re a good man.”

His heart squeezes, “You know I’m not.”

“But you’re good to me,” Hyuna yawns.

“We’ll always be good to you,” Hui says, and he’s not sure why it sounds so sad.

Hyuna eyes him, and says nothing. There’s something tense in the air;  Hui is pretty sure he put it there.

So they sit. A satellite floats across the stars.

Eventually Hyuna speaks, but it’s been so long, her voice sounds raspy.

“I feel guilty, Hui.”

Hui looks down, eyes wide. He brings a hand up to her hair, and brushes it out of her face.

“You- you shouldn’t expect that feeling to go away so soon, you know. It’s only been-“

“Not about the murder,” she says, and it’s raw. “I didn’t want to save you that night.”

Hui’s heart falls into his stomach. He doesn’t say anything, in hopes that she’ll continue. Hyuna pulls her hand into her lap and whispers, as if to not pop the atmosphere around them.

“I saw you dead, and. And for a moment, I thought it was for the best. Then…then Dawnie and I –“

“I get it,” Hui cuts off.

“No!” She barks. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I never, I never should’ve-“ She exhales. “Dawn pulled you out of the water. You weren’t breathing, you know. Dawnie started CPR and I told him to stop and he-“ Hyuna rubs her face with her healing hands. “He gave me a real tongue lashing. Said it wasn’t worth living, if it wasn’t all three of us. And he was right.”

Hui is sure he’s shaking. He can feel his eyes stinging, his heart churning into minced meat. He chooses to ignore the Hyojong thing, for now. Instead he says, “Is that why you’re so weird with me?”

Hyuna won’t meet his eyes.

“Do you feel that way now?”

 “Of course not!”

“Then it’s fine.” Hui shrugs, and pulls her back against his side. “I don’t care.”

“I think I love both of you,” she says.

“You’re tired,” Hui says, on the verge of tears. “You’re saying that because we’re all you have left.”

“That too,” she nods.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t know where the hell they’re going, but Hyuna bought a map for ten cents at an old diner, and she’s been pointing forward ever since.

Things changed that day. Hyuna smiles a little more. She pats Hui’s thigh as he drives, falls asleep against his shoulder often, sings with the radio sometimes.

She’s the mood maker, because when she starts singing, so do they. Hui rolls down the windows, and Hyojong leans out to scream Nirvana lyrics at passing cacti.

It was gloomy for a while there. They were recovering; from landing in a new country, from near death experiences and too much loss. There’s still too much to talk about. Hui doesn’t know what to make of Hyojong, and he doesn’t know what to call this weird relationship they have going on.

 They pull over at a rest stop to lay down the back seat and hotbox the car, draping blankets in the windows, and having half-assed sex under the moon.

 

* * *

 

They find a casino on an Indian reservation, and stay in one of the nicest places they’ve found yet. There’s still creaky floorboards and lacking water pressure, but there’s no bugs, so it’s an A in Hui’s book.

Hui is known for his quick slide of hand, so he plays blackjack with Hyojong and Hyuna hovering over his shoulder, both draped in fur coats and fake jewels they bought at a gift shop. They look good anyways.

“You cheated,” Hyojong grins, as they walk away.

“But I won us six grand,” Hui grins back, and Hyuna reaches up to kiss him, right at the front of the hotel.

Later, he’s pushed to the bed by Hyuna’s palms. He bounces on the mattress, and barely has enough time to get his bearings, before Hyuna is crawling up him, and kissing down his throat. Her shirt is gone somewhere. Hui isn’t concerned.

He ties up her hair with the rubber band around his wrist; he doesn’t do that great of a job, a few strands still fall in her face, but he thinks she looks beautiful.

Hyuna pops the buttons off his shirt, pushes it back on his arms, and licks a fine line down his chest. He’s not built like Hyojong, but she noses into his navel and hums, and Hui’s insecurities fly away.

His attention is drawn to Hyojong. He's sitting at the foot of the bed, almost unsure of what to do. He watches intensely, and Hui almost wants to invite him over, but he’s not sure if that’s crossing a boundary or not.

 _“Dawnie,”_ Hyunacalls, and that’s that.

She works off Hui’s jeans – Hyojong lifts her skirt, and slips a hand down the back of her panties.

Hyuna wastes no time in yanking down Hui’s underwear. He’s half hard already, but doesn’t have the mind to be embarrassed, because Hyuna curls him right against her tongue, laving at the head like she loves it.

 _“Jesus,”_ Hui grits, and Hyuna forces his hips down with her nails. He can see Hyojong working two fingers into her, a steady pace as he curls his fingers.  Hyuna hums around him, finally beginning to bob her head, and slick up Hui's cock. Hyojong grins and thrusts his fingers, and there’s something attractive about Hyojong being dominant. Hui bites his lip to avoid a moan, and soon he’s fully hard against Hyuna’s tongue. A noise escapes him.

“Always so loud,” Hyojong hums. He shoves Hyuna’s underwear down to her knees, and grabs her by the hips, skirt bunched up around her waist. “You gonna’ be messy for her, Hwitaek?”

Hui glares, only because Hyojong’s dirty mouth turns him on more than not. He begins to say something back, but Hyuna slurps loudly, and moves her fist to meet her lips, and it feels  _so_ good that Hui groans, head flopping back against the pillows.

Hyojong keeps eye contact with Hui when he slides into her. Hyuna makes a soft noise around his cock, but is otherwise focused on sucking the literal soul out of Hui. Her mouth is practiced and smooth and warm. It’s not like when Hyojong sucked him off, all teeth and tongue and spit – but the memory alone is enough to make his cock twitch in her mouth.

 _“Fuck,”_ Hyojong breathes, and braces a fist against Hyuna’s back. She’s strong, supporting part of his weight, and her own. Hyojong’s hips pull back slowly, and the new rhythm of his thrusts jostle Hui’s cock against her throat.

 _“Ah, ah-“_ Hui gasps, squirming, “ _Hyuna-“_

She pulls off to breathe, but her lips are slippery and she’s smirking at him, for fucks sake. His cock slaps against his stomach and pulses, especially when Hyojong thrusts hard, and Hyuna briefly whines, working her hips back to meet Hyojong’s.

“You better be wearing a f-uucking condom,” Hyuna turns back to look, as if she could see.

“I am,” Hyojong says. His voice is strained and it’s  _hot._ “Sorry Reddy, forgot to tell you.”

She nods and hums, riding out a few of Hyojong’s thrusts. She wraps her lips around Hui’s head and laves between the slit once more. He’s not sure how she’s so good at multitasking, but she’s amazing. Amazing at everything.

Hyojong looks at Hui once more, and his eyes are so hot and sticky that Hui can feel the knot in is stomach tighten already. Hyuna uses both arms to brace against the bed, but she swallows hard, and Hui resists the urge to draw his hands in her hair and pull.

“Do it,” Hyojong pants. “Pull her hair. She likes it.”

“Shut up,” Hyuna pops off. But she looks up and says for herself, “Do it.”

Hui does, and Hyuna purrs, licking long stripes and biting into his bare hip. Her hair is sticky with sweat, but it tangles nicely around his fingers. She gives his thigh a fine hickey.

The bed creaks, and their sounds grow lewder. The room smells like sex and weed, and Hui is  _glowing,_ thrusting gently up against her lips, and Hyuna lets him. He moans against his fist, but doesn’t close his eyes. He can’t afford to.

Hyuna comes first – with a yank from Hui’s hand in her hair, and a hard thrust from Hyojong. She squirms and briefly moans, backing against Hyojong’s cock until Hyojong is biting words against his tongue, brows scrunched together, hair sticking to his forehead. Hui can’t help but jerk off as Hyojong comes, because it’s just too much.

Hyojong pulls out, and Hyuna catches her breath. Hui works himself in his hand, until Hyuna swats it away, and curls her own dainty fingers around him.

“Come on, Hui,” she prods, kneeling between his thighs. Their skin sticks together, and Hui reaches up to rest his hand on her knee. “Come hard, baby.”

“Ah-“ he surges, close, as Hyuna pumps up and down, the slide still slick from her spit. His cock is red and swollen, and he dances on and off the edge. Her free hand rolls up and down his thigh, worshiping the hickeys there. Hyuna pushes to spread his legs a little farther, and the vulnerability is scary, but a turn on.

However, Hyojong appears out of nowhere. His jeans are pulled back up, but he’s still shirtless, as he leans over, and looks Hui in the eye. Time slows down. For a moment, Hui feels numb. His heart races, as Hyojong hovers above him. His pupils are blown, lips chewed red. He’s kind of beautiful, in a crazy way.

For a moment, he thinks they might kiss. They’ve never kissed. Hui is hit with the overwhelming desire to do so.

However, Hyojong leans down to suck him down halfway, and Hyuna’s fingers crawl to rub beneath his balls, and Hui slaps Hyojong’s arm and yelps until he’s coming.

Hyojong pulls off, but just a little too late – Hui catches his chin. Hui’s body pulses, and he spasms under their arms. His eyes are bleary, but he sees  Hyuna licking the cum off Hyojong’s lips, and that’s just enough to make Hui almost pass out.

 

* * *

 

He can’t stop thinking about the almost-kiss.

It’s an elephant in the room. Something much larger than them. It makes the car feel stuffy, even with the windows rolled down.

He watches the road slip beneath their car, feels the motor tremble beneath his hands, and thinks about all the times he and Hyuna have had sex without Hyojong. And, in vice versa, all the times they’ve fucked without him.

He’s not jealous. He’s sure Hyojong isn’t either.

Hyuna, per usual, knows something they don’t. She keeps hinting at something – when Hyojong creeps a hand up her leg, sometimes she’ll sleepily roll over and say  _go play with Hui._

Hyojong only huffs, rolling back over and saying nothing.

Everything they do is up to Hyuna. If she says fuck off, they fuck off.

But sometimes.  _Sometimes._ Hui wishes he could drag Hyojong in the shower and push him against the tiles. Hyuna hates showering with other people, and Hui doesn’t like being alone these days. Not anymore.

 

* * *

 

The sun goes down early tonight, due to the clouds. There’s a town thirty miles away, but Hui pulls over, down some dirt road, where there’s a few lone trees for cover. There's coyotes off howling in the distance, but they're no bother. The three of them eat sandwiches for dinner. They’ll need to stock back up on water bottles tomorrow, because they drink their last three.

Hyuna falls asleep in the back seat. Hyojong goes out on the hood to smoke. Hui drapes Hyuna in a blanket, before grabbing a drink and locking the car door. 

He’s not sure where Hyojong keeps getting all the weed, but whenever they stop at a town, Hyojong disappears with a stack of cash, and magically comes back with a bag full. It’s a miracle Hui stopped questioning.

Hyojong blows an impressive smoke ring, but doesn’t say anything otherwise. Hui takes a swig of whiskey, and leans back against the window.

The clouds shift above them; sometimes they get peaks at the stars, before hiding behind more swirls of grey. Hyojong’s eyes stare upwards.  Hui takes another swig.

“You’re still driving tomorrow,” Hyojong says, unmoving.

Hui swallows, “Mm?”

“Don’t whine about a hangover.”

“I don’t get hungover,” Hui shoots back.

“Lucky, then.”

“You’re a lightweight,” Hui smiles. “That’s why you don’t drink around me.”

“Fucker, am not. You drink liquor like it’s beer.”

“And?”

“Your liver is gonna’ fall out yer’ ass,” Hyojong snorts.

“Good,” Hui jokes. “Don’t need it.”

Hyojong eyes him, gives him a once over, and looks back to the sky. Hui is more interested in Hyojong’s side profile. It’s attractive. His eyes say everything he doesn’t. Hui is learning to read them, when driving, when in bed. They say a lot.

His lips curl around the joint, breathing out smoke. Hui remembers punching him. Making that mouth bleed. He remembers hitting him with the car, watching his body roll down the street. 

He’s not all that drunk yet, but Hui’s tongue moves before his brain.

“Do you still want to die?”

That's probably the worst set of words that could've shat from Hui's mouth, but Hyojong glances at him, and he looks unbothered. Hui doesn’t bother backpedaling. Hyojong takes a moment to answer. He pushes back his bangs, and turns around to look at Hyuna through the windshield. She’s asleep, blanket curled at her chin. Hyojong immediately looks back to Hui, before answering, “No.”

“You’re being honest?” Hui picks at the hole in his jeans. “It’d break her, if we lost you.”

Hyojong’s eyebrow arches, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hui says. There’s an unsaid  _me too_ that hangs in the air.

Hyojong hums, and relaxes once more. Their hands are close, both braced on the hood of the car.

“I have less of a purpose than I ever did before,” Hyojong says. “But I’m more at peace than I ever was. Like the old me died back there.”

“Thank you,” Hui blurts.

Hyojong arches an eyebrow, “What?”

“For saving me. When Hyuna didn’t want to.” He sets his whisky aside, balancing it on the top of the car.

“She was concussed,” Hyojong huffs, rolling another joint and grabbing a lighter. “Don’t listen to anything she fucking says. She was talking crazy.”

“Yeah, well. Thanks.”

He can hear the smile in Hyojong’s voice, as well as the click of the lighter.

“Ya’.”

Hui looks back over, and holds out his hand, “Hey. Hit me.”

“Kay,” Hyojong nods, and Hui waits for him to pass the joint. Instead he takes a long drag, before taking Hui’s outstretched hand, and sliding him closer on the hood of the car.

Hui makes a shocked noise in his throat, but Hyojong dips in, and works his lips open with his own. They’re much softer than he imagined, dainty and confident. Hui’s lips part out of shock; Hyojong softly prods the smoke into his mouth. Hui breathes on a reflex, and feels it dully hit his system.

“Goddammit,” Hui pulls back. “You scared me.”

He numbly runs his fingers over his bottom lip, and watches Hyojong smirk.

“You asked for it.”

“Yeah. Do it again.”

Hyojong looks like a deer in the headlights. Like that was the last thing he was expecting Hui to say. So he scrambles a little to breathe in more smoke, securing a hand behind Hui’s head before kissing him again. Once more, Hyojong’s tongue gently floats the smoke into his mouth, and Hui breathes in, tasting Hyojong with it.

This time they don’t pull apart. Hyojong tips his head to fix the angle, and Hui tastes his lower lip.

It’s kinda messy. Teeth pulling on lips, tongues slow in counting teeth. Hui buzzes with a different type of thrill. Hyojong sucks on his tongue, and they’re high enough to laugh when their kisses smack.

“You’re hot,” Hyojong breathes. His breath smells dank, but Hui doesn’t care.

“I thought you hated me.”

A hand cards into the back of his hair, none too gently. Hui leans into it, and Hyojong half kisses, half talks, “I hate everyone.”

Hui laughs, “Edgy.”

“But you’re a good one.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Hyojong’s hand rests on the back of his neck, oddly comforting. He licks Hui’s cheek, “You protect us.”

“Hyuna does more.”

“You punched out the guy at that bar. The one who called me a fag.”

Hui exhales, tipping his head when Hyojong leans to suck on his earrings. “I was drunk.”

“It was hoooot,” Hyojong grins. His breath is wet against his ear. “But I didn’t want you to think you’d won.”

“You’re a real ass, you know that?”

Hyojong laughs, and climbs into his lap - the hood bevels a little under his knees, but doesn't care. He braces Hui’s cheeks in his hands, and they kiss for a long, long time. Hui feels lighter than before. He secures his arms around Hyojong's narrow waist, and simply holds him.

They shriek when the car horn honks. Hyojong nearly slides off the car, and Hui has to choose between saving the whiskey bottle, or Hyojong. He grips Hyojong’s wrist, and watches at the bottle shatters in the dirt. Shame.

They turn around to glare through the windshield, and Hyuna is there, cackling in the front seat. She has tears in her eyes, and her smile is so wide that tiny dimples pop in her cheeks.

Hyojong breaks into a smile. He climbs off Hui’s lap, and makes a big show of stomping to the front door. He pulls, but it’s locked.

“You’re a  _dick,_ ” Hyojong stresses. “A bigger dick than  _me._  That’s saying something.”

Hyuna looks down to his crotch, then back up, and says loud enough for Hui to hear.

_“Most are."_

Hui rolls off the car he laughs so hard, and Hyojong looks like he might actually bust open the window and strangle her. He's smiling anyways.

“I’m taking _our_ boyfriend and leaving,” Hyojong teases. “Have fun learning how to drive.”

Hyuna gasps, looking between them both. She unlocks the car door, and Hyojong dives in, hands gripping her hips and tickling up her sides. She squeals and kicks, the car horn is honked once more, and Hui sits in the dirt, laughing drunkenly into the crook of his arm.

 

* * *

 

They find a sweet little diner the next day, with neon lights and baby blue booths. 

Hyuna orders coffee and drinks it black. Hyojong gets the biggest stack of pancakes Hui has ever seen. Across the street is a beef jerky place with a big alien on a billboard. They have a great view of the freeway, and an A&W.

Hui is learning more English words from Hyojong. He points at words in the menu, repeating words like  _waffle, French toast, soda._

Hyuna spreads a map across the table, muttering to herself. Her hair is up in a ponytail, recently dyed red once more. Hyojong helped her do it in the Motel 6 sink.

“I don’t think we’re that far from the Grand Canyon,” Hyuna says.

“You think, or you know?”

“Fuck you, you’re no help.”

Hui pats her knee, “You’re doing great, Reddy.”

“Next time I’ll dye my hair blonde,” Hyuna says, smiling. “Then you can’t call me Reddy no more.”

“I don’t know,” Hyojong chews. “I don’t think you can pull off blonde as well as Hui and I.”

Hyuna kicks him from under the table, and Hyojong kicks her back.

 “So the Grand Canyon,” Hui steals the fork off the table, and slips it up his sleeve.  “If it’s that big, we’re bound to hit it somewhere.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Hyuna grabs her knife and stabs it right in the center of the map. It sticks in the table, and the waitress gives them a dirty look. “I want to see _everything.”_

Hyojong grins, and sticks his knife right next to hers. It wiggles and clicks, but stands upright.

“Me too.”

 They both turn to look at Hui. Hui rolls his eyes.

“Are we doing this now?”

Hyojong is looking at him, and for once, all those walls are gone. There’s _humanity_ in his eyes. A childlike wonder that Hui has only seen glimpses of.

“Come on, it’s metaphorical, dude.”

Hui snorts, but grabs his knife, and in one fluid motion, stabs it right next to theirs.

“Fine. Let’s go.” 

 

* * *

 

Hyuna sings in the front seat. The radio is almost louder than she is, but her high notes transcend their shitty speakers. Hyojong sits in the middle back seat, and finds entertainment in playing with the hairs of the back of Hui’s neck, and craning Hyuna’s neck to make out next to Hui’s ear.

“If we get in wreck, Hyuna is flying right out the back window,” Hui warns, but is ignored, of course.

They drive for eight hours, until Hyojong threatens pissing in the car door handle, and Hyuna demands to eat something other than saltine crackers. 

They find a city in the desert. The first sign that they’re actually getting somewhere – it’s not huge, but there’s houses and supermarkets, and motels that don’t look like something out of a horror movie.

The tank is filled, and they find a Korean BBQ place tucked back behind a parking lot. It’s a small taste of home, with all the weird nostalgia and homesickness that comes with. It feels good though. Refreshing.

They’re tempted to waltz into one of the nicer hotels in town, but decide against it. It’s better to keep a low profile. They find a decent motel, slam the cash on the counter, and haul their backpacks up to the room. They’ve collected a small amount of clothes, toothbrushes, jewelry, and odd knickknacks from rusted gift shops. Hui keeps stealing small things from motel rooms – towels, pillows – only because he can’t help it. 

Hyojong calls the couch immediately, clicking on the T.V., and stretching out his sore legs.

He’s not sure how long they nap for. They wake up sometime mid-day, and decide to stay for another night, only because they haven’t slept in a proper bed for three days, and it’s kinda’ nice.

 

* * *

 

“I was a caterpillar in my past life,” Hyuna sways.

“ _Haha-_ how do you _ahah-_ how do you know?”

She stretches her arms above her head, as if she could touch the moon.

“They eat all day. Then they sleep for months, and wake up beautiful.” She sighs, “I should’ve been a caterpillar.”

“You’re drunk, babydoll,” Hyojong ruffles her hair, and she spits at his feet.

The walk back from the bar isn’t bad. They’re at a higher altitude, so the mountains around them are greener than usual. They’re not actually drunk, just buzzed, content with each other’s company.

Hyojong is in a mood – Hui can tell – because he keeps slipping his hand in Hui’s back pocket, and settles a hand around Hyuna’s waist.

Nothing has happened since that night on the car hood, and pent up energy buzzes inside Hui. There’s so much unexplored territory between them, but he’s not quite sure how to cross it.

Hui keeps looking to his left – to Hyojong, who’s built arms are risen with goosebumps, from his lack of a proper jacket. Hyuna wears it instead – the ugly cow print – but she makes it look good.

Hyojong squeezes his ass through his jeans, and Hui leans around to smack his in return.

When they get back to the hotel room, Hyojong kicks the door shut, and slams Hui up against it. Hui is far, far from complaining, rather, he slips his hands beneath Hyojong’s shirt, and kisses him back.

It’s fast and wet and sticky, both of them tasting like alcohol, but that’s what makes it so good. Hyojong presses harder, Hui whines a little, and Hyojong nearly bites Hui’s lip off when he grins. Hyuna climbs onto the couch, but she’s watching carefully, pulling off Hyojong’s jacket and toeing away her shoes.

Hyojong licks into Hui’s mouth, and Hui feels dizzy from how quickly it turns him on. Hyojong is burning against him, calloused hands gripping his hips hard. Hui moans into his mouth, and feels Hyojong’s stomach muscles tense beneath his hands.

 Hyojong experimentally grinds forwards, like a knee-jerk reaction. He makes a light, breathy noise, and Hui has been _missing out,_ Jesus fuck.

“Move him to the bed,” Hyuna calls.

Hui pushes Hyojong forward – he stumbles halfway across the room, and Hui chases him onto the mattress.

“You come here,” Hyojong points to Hyuna, as Hui climbs to straddle his lap. Hui makes an affirmative noise.

But Hyuna shakes her head, “No. Just you two tonight.”

Hui freezes. He's suddenly sensitive. To jeans rubbing against jeans, to Hyojong's steady breathing. Hyojong arches an eyebrow, but smiles wickedly, and sits up against the headboard. His hands brace on Hui’s hips once more.

“Oh yeah? You gonna’ watch, Reddy?”

“Absolutely,” she settles. “Unravel him.”

A shiver runs down Hui’s spine. He can’t help it – but it makes Hyojong huff, and yank Hui's shirt up and over his head. Hands smooth down his torso, tracing his ribs, and his hip bones. Hui leans into the touch, and squeezes his thighs on either side of Hyojong’s hips, simply because he can. Hyojong has a good amount of muscle; he's a steady force. He's got blood red lips, dark circles under his eyes, messy blonde hair, but he's just as attractive as ever. 

He tips his head to ask, “You ever been fucked before?”

“Why am I the one bottoming?”

“I mean, I can if you want to,” Hyojong says. “But I really, _really_  wanna’ see you on your knees.”

Hyuna makes an _mmhmm_ noise, and Hui feels his face go red.

He huffs, “No. I’ve never been – been _‘fucked’_ before.”

Hyojong leans up, and bites the soft spot on his shoulder. It feels surprisingly good.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

Hyojong backs up, and looks Hui in the eye, as if he wasn’t expecting him to agree. Hui’s stare is unwavering;  Hyojong freezes up, so Hui kisses him.

It feels like whatever was missing between them – it feels like they’ve found it. It’s right, like this. It’s just right.

Hyojong rocks him in his lap, and Hui picks up the rhythm easy, tugging on his hair, feeling blood run between his legs. He can feel how hot Hyojong is getting, and it’s kinda’ sexy. Hyojong is reckless with his tongue, but Hui appreciates it. He tastes and smells like a man.

“You guys are slow,” Hyuna calls. “Get a move on.”

They both turn to look at Hyuna – she’s got one hand in a bag of pretzels, and another down her skirt, and it’s so very _her_ that they can’t help but laugh.

“Fine,” Hyojong pats his hip. “Get these off.”

“You too,” Hui calls, and chucks his jeans. Hyojong gets only his shirt off, before he’s distracted by Hui’s naked body. Hyuna fishes in her bag for lube, and chucks it (quite well) onto the bed.

“Where do you want me?” Hui asks, crawling towards Hyojong.

“Ugh, god,” Hyojong grips the meat of his thighs, and squeezes. “Everywhere.”

“On your knees,” Hyuna demands.

“That’s good too.”

Hui rolls his eyes, but shifts onto the pillows, and braces on his forearms. Hyojong fits a pillow under his hips, and Hui’s breath catches when it rubs against his cock.

He’s sobering up; Hui briefly realizes how exposed he is. Both of his, his _lovers-_ they can see everything _–_ how hard he is – and Hyojong grips his ass in both hands and squeezes, spreading him, before sweeping his hands down soft thighs.

“Are you seeing this?”

“He’s beautiful,” Hyuna says, and Hui hides his face in his arm.

"Both of you are weird." 

“I’m assuming you know how this goes?” Hyojong pops open the lube.

“Yeah. I can do it myself if you want.”

He can practically _hear_ Hyojong’s eyebrow arch upwards, “ _Have you?”_

“Have you _not?”_

A cold finger prods in first, and Hui inhales, because it’s kinda’ been a while since he fingered himself.

“Touché.”

Hyojong has long, slender fingers, so when he adds a second, Hui arches back into it. It doesn’t burn, not like he expected. Hyojong curls his fingers, pumps twice, scissors them, and makes Hui choke into the pillows. Hyojong bites into his ass when he adds a third, and Hui openly moans, fingernails clawing at the headboard.

“What the fuck?” Hui wheezes.

Hyojong licks at the bite mark, and sighs, “Great ass.”

“He liked it,” Hyuna grins. Hyojong drives all three of his fingers into his prostate, and slaps the side of his ass cheek with his other hand – and Hui’s throat revs, eyes rolling shut, cock bobbing between his legs. Hyojong undoes him completely, and Hui fights to keep quiet.

“Wow, hot.”

“Shut _up,_ god-“

“Fuck him already,” Hyuna prods. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

Now that’s a mental image Hui most definitely didn’t need right now. He turns his face away, warding off the orgasm when Hyojong continues to fuck his fingers in and out.

 _"Ah! Ah!_ W-Watch it, Hyojong." 

 _"_ “Noona is real pushy tonight~” Hyojong sings, pulling out his fingers. Hui whines.

She pouts, “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Oh, _you’ve_ waited.”

“Yeah-“

Hui leans to one side to wrap a hand around his cock and pump, the lack of friction driving him up a wall. He can hear Hyojong rip open a condom, and he pats Hui’s thigh.

“Roll over baby.”

Hyojong only calls Hyuna _baby._ Since day one – since he crawled in the car behind them, and asked, _where we goin’ baby?_

Hui breathes in, and rolls over without a fight. Hyojong is there, kneeling, cock mouthwateringly hard. Hui reaches up to wrap a hand around him, and he can feel his heat through the latex. Hyojong’s eyes are cloudy, chest a little sweaty, and it makes Hui feel good about himself.

Hyojong prods at his thighs, pushing until his legs are spread. He wiggles closer, and Hui braces his hands against the headboard.

"Flexible." 

“Don’t go easy on me,” Hui grits.

Hyojong drizzles lube between them, some of it staining the mattress.

“Someone likes it rough,” Hyojong teases, and angles Hui’s hips until he’s sliding home. He’s fuller than before, and Hui wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut, the stretch lightly burning. 

Hyojong begins to move immediately, giving Hui no time to adjust, and it’s just as Hui wanted. His eyes snap back open, mouth going dry as he gasps, and Hyojong grips his thighs in his hands and _fucks him,_ fucks him like he’s done it before.

Hui’s back arches, his toes curl, and he whines into the humid air of their hotel room.

Hyuna has gone quiet on the couch, and he takes that as a good sign. He meets her eyes briefly, before Hyojong leans forward and rolls his hips hard, cock driving so far that Hui see’s stars. His dick rises off his stomach with every thrust, turned on and overstimulated. 

The room sounds like sex, and Hui is far from embarrassed about it. 

“Ah, ah, ah-“ Hui meets him, thrust for thrust.

Hyojong bites his lip in concentration, and Hui wants him closer, closer-

“Fuck – _please-“_ Hui squirms, making grabby hands; Hyojong slides up, dropping Hui’s thighs, and leans atop him, just enough so they can kiss. It’s a rhythm, a messy dance, and the lewd squelches only wind Hui tighter. Hyojong is hot against him, in him, _around him,_ it’s everything.

“You’re doing good,” Hyojong breathes, and thrusts right up where Hui needs him. Hui sobs-and Hyojong parrots, “Fuck, fuck-“

 Hui is losing it. He’s close, but not, hard, but far from coming. His cock is trapped between their bodies, but he _throbs_ with arousal, every nerve on edge. He can feel everywhere they’re touching, everywhere Hyojong kisses and bites him. It’s rough and raw and _good,_ so good.

He forgets about the past. About where they’re going.

Instead he looks to Hyuna, who’s watching them with _so_ much fondness – Hui doesn’t bother hiding his face. He claws down Hyojong’s back, hooks a leg by his hip, and rides out the feeling.

He flips them halfway through – rolls Hyojong underneath him, grips the headboard and thrusts back against him. It’s all worth Hyojong’s reaction – worth watching his face contort, until _he’s_ the one gasping.

Hui doesn’t bother keeping track of time. Instead he rides Hyojong’s lap, and focuses on the hands that dig into his thighs. Hyojong wheezes his name, and it’s never sounded so good.

Dainty arms wrap around his waist, and Hui swallows a moan, when Hyuna slips a hand around his cock and pumps.

“Look who it is,” Hyojong says, but it sounds broken.

Hyuna smiles into his bare shoulder, and twists her wrist. “He’s been good.”

He doesn’t expect the praise to hit him as hard as it does, but his pace falters, and he scrambles for Hyojong’s hands to keep him from falling over. Their fingers lace. 

Hyuna licks the sweat off his neck, Hyojong squeezes his hands, and thrusts up, and his stomach knots so hard, Hui sees white.

He loses himself in the slide of Hyuna’s fingers. In the rough sound Hyojong makes beneath him. He sits back on his thighs and comes hard, silently, with Hyuna’s teeth against his cheek.

They’re saying words, but it’s distant, and mumbled. Hui can only feel himself, feel the cock up his ass, working him through it. He’s suddenly oversensitive, suddenly blinking away water in his eyes.

Hyojong is sticky now, because of him, but he looks unbothered – rather, very on edge.

“How are you?” Hui wheezes, and works his hands down to grip Hyojong’s wrists, forcing eye contact.

Hyojong shifts, blonde hair in his eyes. “Close.”

Hui begins to move again, gritting his teeth through the oversensitivity. Hyojong’s head snaps back, mouth falling open with a hard curse.

“Careful,” Hyuna warns. Her hand braces against Hui’s lower back.

“I’m good,” Hui grins, turning his head to bonk his forehead against hers. “Let’s keep going.”

She smiles, and pushes him harder into Hyojong’s lap.

 

* * *

 

Their sheets are essentially ruined, so Hyojong picks the lock of the empty room next door, and steals the clean ones right off the bed.

Hui lays on his side, towards the right side of the mattress. Hyuna nestled in his arms. Hyojong is behind her, yawning every so often, and playing with her hair. Hui drifts in and out of consciousness, lulled by the white noise of traffic outside their window, and the low static hum of the T.V.

Hyojong reaches across to pat his hip, and Hui opens his eyes.

“Hm?”

“I said you’ll be sore tomorrow,” Hyojong leans up and around to grip Hui’s thigh, until it’s propped up on Hyuna’s hip, and within Hyojong’s reach.

“I’m sore now,” Hui laughs.

“We’ll make Dawnie drive tomorrow.”

“Over my dead body. I still have a scar from last time.”

“Should’ve worn your seatbelt.”

“I _did._ ”

“Teach me to drive,” Hyuna interrupts. Her nails rake up and down his outer arm, and Hui’s eyelids fall heavy.

“I can.”

She hums. Hyojong brushes her hair out of the way, sputtering when she shifts. She rolls over to face him, but Hui isn’t bothered. Instead, he shifts closer – to wrap his arms around her waist, and let Hyojong play with the callouses on his fingers.

 

* * *

 

It’s breezy up here. Hui was never afraid of heights, but he grows nervous when Hyuna approaches the edge, hands clasped behind her back. She’s in a corduroy skirt, dull, yellow tank top straps falling down her shoulders.

Hyojong sits at her feet, legs dangling off the edge. He pushes up his sunglasses, before placing them back on his nose.

Hui stands a foot behind them. Birds circle above, casting shadows.

He appreciates the breeze. Spring feels like summer down here. 

“So this is it, huh?” Hyojong leans back on his hands.

Hyuna’s scarf floats around her neck, stray hairs whisping around her face. She kicks a pebble off the edge, and it bounces down red rock.

“Yep.”

There’s miles and miles of deep red canyon, a brown river slowly moving at the bottom. It goes on for miles, like an ocean in the desert. 

“It’s huge,” Hui comments.

Hyuna nods.

“Beautiful.”

There’s another moment of silence. Hui finds himself more in love with Hyojong and Hyuna’s silhouettes, the sun reflecting off tan, bare skin.

Hyojong plays with his lighter. Flicks it on, then off. On, Off. 

Hyuna shifts on her feet. 

Hyojong sniffs, slowly drawling, “So... Vegas then?”

Hyuna turns around on a dime, tossing Hui the keys as she stalks to the car.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
